A Moment
by Pigy190
Summary: He hated how a moment could change everything. One stupid little moment. Insignificant when compared to the great expanse of time. Dramione friendship.


**Story:** A Moment

**Author:**__Lena

**Summery: **He hated how a moment could change everything. One stupid little moment. Insignificant when compared to the great expanse of time.

**Spoilers: **All Books. _Definitely_ all movies.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Sadly. I would looove to have Draco/Tom. mmhmm

He hated how a moment could change everything. One stupid little moment. Insignificant when compared to the great expanse of time. A blip in the long time of his life, but that stupid, insignificant little blip changed everything.

For the past seven years, he'd been convincing himself that she wasn't worth of anything. She had dirty blood, after all. Her good marks, her intelligence was all just memorization. Not talent, just luck. He was smarter than her. Better than her. After all, _he_ was a pureblood and _she _was a mud-blood.

When he was seven he'd once asked his father if mud-bloods really had brown blood. His father has laughed and said:

"Of course they do, Son. They mud in which they live has seeped into their skin, dirtying them from inside out." He had accepted his father's words as truth, never questioning, never wondering. He was raised to be the perfect pureblood son. To follow in his father's footsteps. To become a Death Eater when the Dark Lord rose again. His father was proud of him. Complimenting him. Loving him. Never once was his father cross with him. Or abusive to him.

Until he was eleven.

He tried to tell his father it wasn't his fault.

"She's Potter's best friend!"

"She's a Gryffindor!"

"She's a teacher's pet!"

But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She beat him in everything. And for the first time in his life, his father showed him his dark side. One word and he knew he couldn't fail again:

"Crucio."

His mother came and healed him some time later, whispering over and over again that it wasn't his fault. That his father knew it was that mud-blood loving headmaster's fault. That the angry came from knowing the Dark Lord had been so close to coming back, but was thwarted again.

His father apologized to him the next day, praising him on being second, sometimes even tied with the mud-blood. After all, she was only that good because she memorized the books and everyone favored her.

When he was twelve everything went well, he was top of his class. Above the mud-blood. It was left unspoken that she was petrified for a good chunk of the year and therefor unable to be equal to him or better.

When he was thirteen she was on top again. He had failed again. His father was angry again. And he felt the pain of magic again. His father never apologized. His mother cried while she healed him periodically over the summer. When he father found out, she was the one writhing in pain at the end of his wand.

When he was fourteen his parents took him to the Quidditch World Cup. Nothing could spoil this event. They had box seats, given to them by the Minister of Magic himself! They got to the top box, his parents composed and unimpressed, he composed but very impressed. He was ecstatic until he saw the Weasley's, Potter, and _her_. He couldn't believe _they_ had gotten box seats. He ignored them throughout the game, cheering on Ireland. After the game his father and some friends decided to ahve some "fun" with the muggles that owned the place. He thought it was stupid. The Ministry of Magic from all over the world were there. He ran and hid in the woods like his mother told him, pretending like he wasn't part of what was going on. He warned the stupid mud-blood to keep her head down and hid. He couldn't believe she hadn't been taken away from there yet. If _he_ were in charge of her safety, he would have taken her far away, but then _they_ didn't know how much his father hated her. But it didn't matter-it _couldn't_ matter-to him. She was just a stupid mud-blood. An _ugly_(_beautiful)_, dumb_(intelligent)_, dirty_(amazing)_ mud-blood.

That was the year the Dark Lord returned. Draco hid most of the time. The Dark Lord wasn't interested in him yet. After all, he was just a fourteen year old kid. The Dark Lord didn't have time for kids.

When he was fifteen he made his father proud. He was part of that toad woman's _(stupid)_ squad meaning he could put the mud-blood in her place without getting into trouble. For the first time, he was in control. He had _(almost) _everything he wanted. He was powerful, rich, handsome, and Pureblood. All the things that mattered in the world now that _He_ was back. And his father was one of the Dark Lord's most loyal followers. There wasn't much he had to worry about.

Until his father failed. And suddenly the Dark Lord cared about him. A fifteen year old kid. He was given a mission. To kill Dumbledore. To let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He knew he had to do it. He knew he couldn't fail. The Dark Lord had told him what would happen if he failed. His parents would die. His father he didn't care about anymore, but his _mother_... he had to save her. He had to kill Dumbledore. He had to let the Death Eaters in.

When he was sixteen he started to waste away, knowing he _couldn't_ do it. Knowing he _had_ to. _She_ was watching him from afar. He had seen her frown at him in worry. She was always too kind hearted for her own good. Even as her friends glared at him, put him down, and hated him. _She worried_. He wanted to go to her, to tell her everything, but he knew he couldn't. She was dirty. Even if she was _smarter_ than him. Even if she was _prettier_ than any Pureblood witch he knew. Her _blood_ was _muddy._ Dirty. And he knew better than to soil himself.

He succeeded. He let the Death Eaters in. He stood in the tower and tried to kill Dumbledore, but the old man wouldn't shut up. He kept telling him how he could help him. Save his family. He was going to accept. He was going to help them. Help _her_, despite her dirty blood. But then _they_ came. And _he_ killed Dumbledore and pulled him away, running away with him. He saw _her_ fighting as they ran. He admired her for her wandwork. Her spellwork. She was truly and amazing witch. But she was a _mud-blood._ So he pushed away all thoughts of her and ran.

When he was seventeen he went back. But _she_ wasn't there with her friends. He knew she wouldn't be. After all, the Dark Lord was killing mud-bloods and blood-traitors now. He knew she had finally gone into hiding. Finally gone somewhere _safe_. But he was _wrong_. Because suddenly she was in front of him with her friends. He was home on Easter Holiday's. He didn't like his life anymore and was sulking wishing he'd been brave enough to accept Dumbledore's offer when the house elf came and got him.

He did his best to lie to his aunt. He watched as she was tortured. As she screamed. As she _lied_ to protect her friends. To save the world. He watched in horror and she writhed in pain. He heard her friend bellowing her name after begging for his aunt to take him instead.

He could _never_ be that brave. He hated her more. Hated her for making him question his father and the Dark Lord. Hated her for being _better_ than him at _everything. _And so, when the Dark Lord gave him a new mission, he accepted it eagerly.

"Kill Potter's mud-blood."

It was then, when he was almost eighteen that everything changed. He fought with her in that room. He was fighting to kill and so was she. He knew she didn't pity him anymore. She didn't worry about him anymore. But she surprised him again and instead of killing him she stunned him. Just like her friend saved him in the Room of Hidden things. He got up more angry than before. He realized he was covered in blood. He kept sliding on blood. He cursed her _dirty_ blood. But when he looked around he realized he didn't know. It was the _same color_ as his blood.

In that moment, _everything_ changed.

His father had _lied._

The Dark Lord was _wrong._

She was _beautiful._

She was _intelligent._

She bled the _same_ as him.

The _one _truth he'd be hanging onto when she made him question everything was _wrong._

He hated that moment more than he hated her, because in that moment he realized he'd been living a _lie_ for _eighteen years._ He ran after her. He stunned Death Eaters. He made sure she was safe.

When he was almost eighteen the Dark Lord was killed for good. Potter won. It was over. His mother found him and hugged him and cried. His father clapped him on the back. They sat in their own corner away from the crowd happy to be alive.

When he was eighteen his father went to Azkaban. His mother was put on house arrest without a wand, forced to do things the muggle way. She smiled and didn't mind. She had gotten out of Azkaban thanks to Potter.

When he was eighteen he sat in front of the Wizagamont waiting for their verdict. No one had come to speak for him. He knew it was foolish to hope that someone would, after all, no one but _her_ knew the truth about him. The Minister stood up, he knew he was going to Azkaban. They didn't believe his story of remorse. Eighteen and in Azkaban. One of the youngest to go.

"Those in favor of charging young Master Malfoy." Over half of the crowd raised their hand. His heart sunk. His hope gone.

The door flew open. _She_ was there. Panting and out of breath but _there._ Gorgeous, flustered, but _there._

"Sorry. I'm. Late," she panted. "Got. caught. up. studying." The Minister raised his eye brow at her.

"What can we do for you, Miss Granger?" She struggled to catch her breath and stood, straight, strong, and proud. She walked over to his side.

"I am here to speak on the behalf of Draco Abraxas Malfoy." No one spoke. No one breathed. No one knew how to react. He couldn't believe she was there. After _everything_ she was _there_ to _help_ him. He couldn't believe his luck. She gave a slight cough, startling the Minister back into action.

"Yes, of course," the Minister said, flustered. He smiled. He knew that it was only because _she _was there that they were going to throw out the vote and start the trail almost knew. "We have heard from the accused about how he has 'reformed' and has 'remorse' for his actions. The Wizagamont will now hear from Miss Hermione Granger on behalf of Mister Draco Abraxas Malfoy." He watched as she smiled slightly at the note taker.

"Full name?" the note taker asked. He realized the guy had red hair and horn-rimmed glasses. He was pretty sure it was another Weasley.

"Hermione Jane Granger," she said clearly.

"Hermione Jane Granger, you may now speak." She nodded

"Thank you, Percy." So that was his name. "While I admit over the last seven years, Draco has been nothing but a spoil rich pureblood brat, I owe him my life." The room gasped. His heart jumped. Maybe he had a chance after all. "We fought and I stunned him. I saw him appear behind me not long after and raise his wand. I thought he was going to try and curse me again, but instead he cursed the Death Eater next to me. I do not know what caused his change of heart, but I know he had one. I ask that the Wizarding World give him another chance. It is not his fault he was born into a brainwashing pureblood family and when given the choice he chose to save a mud-blood instead of killing her." He tried hard not to cry. He knew he didn't deserve her kindness. He didn't deserve to have her standing next to him. He'd known for a while that she was _better_ than him. That she _belonged_ in the Wizarding World, but he'd been too _afraid_ to change anything. The Minister stood up again.

"All in favor of charging young Master Malfoy?" A few hands went up, much less than before. He dared let himself hope that he might get away. The note taker counted the hands while _she_ glared at them and placed her hand on his shoulder. He was shocked. Her hand was warm and gentle and her thumb was rubbing circles on his shoulder soothing him.

"All in favor of letting young Master Malfoy go back to Hogwarts with supervision and a warning?" Hands went up again. He wasn't sure if they were more that the others. The note taker counted and _she_ smiled at them. She had a beautiful smile. He wished he hadn't been to thick to see it before. There was a silence as the Minister looked at the note takers numbers. He turned back to them. He held his breath afraid of what the Minister was going to say.

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy has been let go." he let out a breath. Tears ran down his face. He didn't care if it wasn't _strong_ or _pureblood_ to cry and show weakness. He was free. He was going back to Hogwarts. He would be with _her_ again. "You will go back to Hogwarts for the next term. Until then you will be under ministry supervision and house arrest. You will be given your wand when you enter the Hogwarts castle. Until then the Ministry will keep it."

He couldn't believe he was going to be free. He sat in the chair and wept. The chamber cleared out. Everyone was gone, but _she _was still standing beside him. He looked up at her, tears running down his face, eyes red and blood shot.

"I'm sorry." She smiled at him. She _smiled_ at _him._ He tried to smile back, but his muscles didn't know how. She came to stand in front of him and bent down. She leaned forward and hugged him. He hugged her back, surprised at her willingness to touch him.

"I know." He stood up with her help. They walked out of the chamber together. Side by side. Cameras flashed and questions were flung their way. She ignored them and pushed her way through the crowd. He followed closely behind.

At the apperation spot two ministry officials waited for him. She turned to him and smiled again. She hugged him. While the cameras flashed and people stared, she _hugged_ him and he hugged her back.

"See you in September, Draco."

"See you in September, Hermione." and then she was gone. He smiled to himself and let the ministry officials take him home.

Maybe that moment of change hadn't been so bad after all.

He smiled as his mother greeted him and hugged him. She cried when he told her what had happened. He told her the moment that changed everything. She smiled when she realized how much her son had grown.

No, that moment wasn't so bad after all.

But he still hated how insignificant it really was in the grand scheme of things. He hated how small it was, yet how it had changed everything. He hated it almost as much as he hated her... which he was beginning to worry wasn't really that much at all.

**A/N:** I wrote something with the same event, I suppose this could be a sequel to "The Same Blood", but it's not really.

I'm thinking of writing more to it, but I'm not sure.

Review pleasee.


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